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<title>The Breaking by theonetryingtolive</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283341">The Breaking</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonetryingtolive/pseuds/theonetryingtolive'>theonetryingtolive</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fury (2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon thrown out the window, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmate marks, Soulmates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:40:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonetryingtolive/pseuds/theonetryingtolive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When the door of the bathroom rattled, Don Collier pulled himself together and straightened up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Don "Wardaddy" Collier/Reader, Don "Wardaddy" Collier/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Breaking</h2></a>
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    <p>A drop of a deep red fell into the water. As soon as its surface touched the clear liquid it seemed to part, to extend in the form of tendrils and dissolve. A second drop of red followed the first, and then a third. Soon the clear water had turned pink, but it would not remain so for long. As time passed, the water in the sink became murky and dark. The fogged mirror was empty, but there were a pair of hands holding onto the ceramic of the sink, gripping it so tightly the knuckles were white. And yet the slow dripping of red did not cease.</p><p>When the door of the bathroom rattled, Don Collier pulled himself together and straightened up. His back ached from being bent over for such a long time, and now that he was standing straight he avoided the mirror, his eyes searching for a safe place to land on. Not the white walls, nor the pink face towel, nor the blue tiles of the floor. They eventually settled on a pair of pink slippers, but he did not move. The desire to lean forward into absolution was so deep he could almost taste it, but he did not deserve it. </p><p>He stood still as a pair of small hands guided him to sit back on the edge of the bathtub. He closed his eyes when he felt the gentle dabbing of his cheek with a washcloth, and didn’t flinch when he felt the sting of rubbing alcohol. He opened his eyes when he felt a pair of soft lips against his forehead. The little cut was tended to, and the job of shaving was finished by hands that had sewn him back together in the battlefield and taken him apart in the deep of the night. </p><p>He watched as the water drained from the sink, and the washcloth was wrung out and hung to dry. Sometimes, if he blinked too fast, he could see muddy boots instead of slippers. Sometimes he saw army green trousers instead of a soft blue robe. When he looked down at himself,sometimes he saw his forearm painfully empty of colour. But that was not right. His skin, charred and burnt, had colour now. Starting in his back, a pattern of blues, yellows, and pinks crawled down his arm to his forearm. He could see the same unmarred pattern under the blue robe, and often wondered how his skin would look without its defects. The colours of his skin were broken, scattered across the plain of his skin. </p><p>When he felt a hand cupping his cheek, he leaned into the touch. Broken and unbroken. </p><p>Home.</p>
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